Playthings
by Loving Villains
Summary: Savannah is new to the Reid family. They decide to take a trip out to their extravagant, secluded lake house to make an attempt at bonding. The family is not what it seems, though, and neither are the charming boys asking for some eggs. Peter/Paul, Peter/Oc, Paul/Oc, Peter/Oc/Paul.
1. Meet the Family

Hi, Friends! This fic is about a girl named Savannah and the family she recently joined due to her mother's overdose, playing Peter and Paul's game. The happy, wealthy family is not all that it seems to be, and neither is Savannah. This story is rated M for a reason, and I will be sure to list warnings at the beginning of each chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Funny Games, the movie, characters, or the plot. The plot and my original characters are mine, and mine only.

Warnings: Mention of drug/alcohol use, death, inappropriate behavior from family members, abuse, blood, violence, and the usual Peter+Paul behavior.

* * *

Savannah Harris puffed out a breath to blow her frizzy hair off her sweaty forehead. The lake air was fresh, but humid and thick. Her newly acquired family was playing a car game, skipping her turn each time around. She was fine with it, they didn't know each other. She thought back to the days with her mother. The case worker looked upon her with pity, but she didn't get it. No one did.

The gate appeared, and they drove down the long, flashy, cobblestone driveway before arriving at the house. It was every bit as beautiful and over the top as she had imagined. The two lions positioned on either side of the door gave some air of royalty, even though the family living inside was anything but. Lawrence Reid was a slime ball if Savannah had ever heard of one. He was a successful lawyer, catering to the stars, but that was just the surface. He was notorious for traveling with cases, and sleeping with any willing female while visiting.

Her mother was one of them, only he would visit her every time he came to town, which was often. She had truly loved him, something her daughter would never understand. When she told him she was pregnant with Savannah, he left, and never came back. She fell into drugs after that, and a few months ago, she had overdosed. Savannah had found her, but it was too late, and they shipped her off to live with the next of kin. That just so happened to be Larry, and he could no longer run from the mistake he made 17 years ago.

Now, she was sitting in the car, suffocating in the tension radiating from herself, Larry, his wife, Margaret, and their son, Rodney. This trip was planned for healing and bonding, but that idea was quickly fading. Margaret hated Savannah's guts. She made that clear in her cold glares and harsh words. Rodney was a complete moron. He didn't understand the relation between the two of them, and had made multiple advances toward the girl. She had caught him peeking under the bathroom door while showering, but the adults would never believe that their golden boy could do any wrong.

Savannah set her backpack down, staring up at the looming house. This was their vacation home, and it didn't even compare to their main home. She started when she felt a hand on her lower back, only to find Larry looking at her with a smug smile.

"Nice, huh?" he asked in a haughty tone.

"It sure is," she answered, uncomfortable with him so close to her.

She entered the house, rolling her eyes at the extravagant entry hallway that opened into a living room larger than the home she had shared with her mother. The end of the hall had a kitchen that belonged on the cover of a magazine, and a marble staircase. She set her bag down by the stairs and turned to help Margaret lug her three suitcases out of the trunk. Once the car was unloaded, she put the food in the fridge.

"We're gonna go out and launch the boat," Larry trailed off.

"And I'll stay back here and take a shower," Savannah replied, picking up that he meant 'not you' when he said 'we'.

Relief filled his face at not having to openly exlcude her. Even though he found her very existence inconvenient, at least she knew her place.

"We'll be back when it gets dark. Have dinner ready when we get back," he told her.

She gave him a nod before he left through the back door.

She immediately started on dinner, preparing a lasagna that would be ready before the family got back. She didn't normally eat with them. None of them could hold an appetite in the the tension that surrounded meal times. Soon, the food was in the oven and she had a couple hours to spare until the family returned.

Having the house to herself, Savannah took a long, hot shower. She hadn't had the luxury on account of the creep that watched her under the door. When she got out, she remembered that she had left her clothes downstairs. Scolding herself as she looked for a towel, she realized there were none.

At least she was home alone, she tried to calm herself as she ran downstairs, as naked as the day she was born.

Savannah had just pulled on her bra and underwear when she heard a noise she had been dreading.

A knock.

She grabbed one of her large sweatshirts that fell to her mid thigh and turned to look at the door. A boy around her age was standing with blushing cheeks and a sheepish smile. She felt her face flush in mortification.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I just- I just f-forgot my bag down here... I'm sorry," she stuttered, unable to look into his eyes.

Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and met his blue gaze, "Hi, I'm Savannah, how can I help you?"

"I'm Peter, we're staying with the Duncan family the enxt house over. Francine, I mean Mrs. Duncan, was making something and she needs eggs. Would you be able to help us out with some?" he asked in a soft voice.

Savannah opened the door wider, allowing him in the house with a smile, "Of course, follow me," she said. She stopped at her bag again to pull on a pair of black track shorts.

When he reached the kitchen, the smell of the lasagna hit his nose and his stomach growled. Savannah smirked, and pulled the tray out of the oven. As it was cooling to the stove, she reached in the fridge and pulled out carton of eggs. She set four in a bowl before turning around to face him, catching his stare on her backside. He quickly averted his gaze to the lasagna before meeting her eyes.

"Would you like some before you go?" she asked with a smile.

His eyes widened and he nodded eagerly, "Yes, please, if it isn't too much to ask."

"Oh, of course," she said while serving up a plate.

He sat and ate while Savannah busied herself in the kitchen, washing the dishes. She didn't notice the glint in Peter's eye as she returned the knife back to the knife drawer. She finished the dishes to hear a voice at the front door.

"Hello?" a male voice called.

Savannah rushed to the door, drying her hands on the kitchen towel. Another boy around her age was standing on the porch with a friendly smile on his face. His eyes held an intimidating coldness, but she knew not be judgmental.

"Hi, I'm Savannah. Let me guess, you're looking for Peter?" she asked with a grin.

He broke into a smile, nodding and sticking his hand out, "Paul."

Savannah noticed that they were both wearing white gloves, which was pretty strange. They also were dressed similarly, in white shirts and shorts, but that wasn't uncommon. The girls she had gone to school with used to match outfits with their friends all the time.

"Well, come on in. Sorry, I've been holding him hostage with lasagna. You can have some too, if you want," she said, grabbing his hand and turning to lead him to the kitchen. She jumped when she saw Peter standing in the doorway with a satisfied smile on his face.

"Paul, you should try it. Savannah is such a polite host, and her lasagna is delicious," Petr said, holding Paul's gaze. They clearly were having some sort of nonverbal conversation, so Savannah excused herself to the kitchen.

"Hey, Paul?" she called.

"Yes?" he said from the entryway.

"Would you like some lasagna? I can send some with you if you need to get going," she said.

"Oh, that would be wonderful, and we're in no rush," he said staring at the lasagna.

"Okay, have a seat then," Savannah said with a smile. "Peter, would you like seconds?"

"Oh, yes please," he said with a grin.

Soon, the boys were sitting at the table, eating as if they hadn't eaten in days. The sun was beginning to set, and the family would be home soon.

The plates were cleard soon, and after Paul rejected a econd helping, Savannah took the plates to the sink and washed them. She looked over her shoulder at the boys, finding them staring at her in a way that had heat blossoming in her cheeaks and traveling lower.

"Well, I have your eggs, and not that I don't enjoy the company, but the Reid clan will be returning soon. You'll want to save yourself from the awkwardness that surrounds our every interaction," she trailed off.

The boys rose from their seats and Savannah handed the eggs over to Paul. They headed to the door before Paul tripped over the long runner in the hallway, causing the eggs to crack. The yolk was definitely going to stain, and Savannah would never hear the end of it.

"Shit!" Paul exclaimed, looking at Savannah calculatingly. Soon she would lash out at the boys and the game could begin.

Savannah's eyes widened, her breathing rate increasing until she was hyperventilating. Tears filled her cinnamon colored eyes and she couldn't tear her eyes from the spot on the carpet.

Voice shaking, she told the boy, "Let's go get you some more eggs, I need to clean this up before they- before they get home."

Paul and Peter shared a look before following her into the kitchen. Her hands shook as she placed the carton in Paul's gloved hand.

"Go ahead and grab the ones you need. I... I need to get that stain out," she said as if she was in a trance.

Savannah scrubbed the spot anxiously, thinking back to the last time she had messed up. Margaret had stepped on her hand with her Burberry heel, as she frantically swept up broken glass, breaking her pinky finger. It was still in its splint. This rug, though. This rug was probably at least $4,000. Larry didn't own anything if it wasn't the best. It was probably one of a kind. Savannah was panicking at the though of just how screwed she was.

"Hey, sorry about the- Are you okay?" Paul asked. He had never seen a player react so badly to him breaking the eggs.

"Wha-" Savannah realized that she had been crying. "Oh. Yeah. I'm fine. You got the eggs?" she asked.

"Yeah... Anyway, sorry about the carpet. I can be so clumsy sometimes," he said, staring at her, analyzing her every reaction.

"Oh, it's fine. Margaret's reactions can't get any worse, I suppose," she said, glancing at her broken finger.

Peter's eyes flashed. The boys had some unspoken discussion before they thanked Savannah for the food and the eggs and left. She returned to the spot, and saw that it was improving, but she could tell that there would always be some discoloration.

* * *

The Reid family returned about 20 minutes after Peter and Paul had left. They ate dinner and proceeded to get drunk on some fancy red wine. That wine probably cost more than what she paid in rent when she lived with her mother. It was nights like these that she wished that they were able to save her.

After the dishes were done, Savannah tried to slip away to bed when she heard an infuriated screech. She paused at the bottom step, closing her eyes and taking a shaky breath.

"SAVANNAH, YOU LITTLE SHIT! GET BACK HERE! NOW!" Margaret screamed.

"Yes?" Savannah whimpered with her head bowed submissively.

"You wanna tell what the fuck I'm looking at right now?" Mragaret asked, her voice dangeroudly low.

"I gave the neighbors some eggs... and he tripped and spilled them I can get the stain out, it will just take some-" Savannah began, but was cut off by Margaret slapping her. She got in a couple more hits until she gave a final punch.

"That was imported from Thailand, you idiot! That runner costs more than you're worth! You ruin everything you touch! Get out of my sight!" Margaret shouted, shoving Savanna into the wall, making her see stars.

Savannah busied herself in scrubbing at the stain in a frenzy. Eventually, Margaret sat in front of the television and ignored Savannah. Tears blurred Savannah's vision, and she let out a choked sob. She heard footsteps behind her and expected to hear Rodney make a snide comment, but instead, she felt a hand stroking her hair. A disgusting cloud of Drakkar Noir assaulted her senses, making her eyes water.

Larry.

"You look so beautiful on your knees, Audrey," he slurred.

"Larry, it's me, Savannah. Your daughter?" she said in an exasperated tone.

This was not the first time he had mistaken her for her mother. She was practically a carbon copy of the woman. They had the same curly blonde hair and upwards tilted amber eyes. Savannah had inherited her mother's pouty lips and high cheekbones. The only thing different was that Savannah had inherited Larry's pale complexion and freckles.

"I'm gonna get you one day. Just you wait," he said before joining his wife on the couch.

As the clock struck 8, the floor looked as good as new, and Savannah stood, taking the cleaning supplies back to put them under the sink. She stood up after closing the cabinet and looked out the window. She let out a small scream when she saw a face looking back at her.

She went to the front door, and opened it, only to be met with the sight of Peter and Paul.

"Hey, what can I do for you?" she asked in a weary voice.

"You're bleeding," Peter said in a cold tone.

"Wha- Oh," Savannah said, touching her cheek and pulling her hand back to see blood on it. Margaret's gaudy ring must have cut her when she was beating on her.

"Anyway, how can I help you?" she asked, nervously looking over her shoulder.

"We were going to call our parents, but the Duncan family's phone doesn't work out here, and we were wondering if we could use your landline," Peter said.

"Close the fucking door! Larry works hard for that air conditioning that your white trash ass is letting out!" Margaret yelled.

Paul's eyes lit up. Maybe there would be a game here after all.

"Um, sure, please just try to make it quick. They are in a bad mood tonight," Savannah said in a shaky voice, opening the door wider to allow them in.

She showed them the phone before giving them privacy to make their phone calls. She heard them speaking quietly as she made her way into the living room.

Savannah coughed awkwardly, gaining the attention of the two drunken adults. "The neighbor boys are here to use the phone," she mumbled.

"Did you ask permission before you invited two boys over?" Margaret asked in a sharp tone.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know they were going to show up. I was just trying to be nice," Savannah said, shifting on her feet nervously.

"I bet you fucked them while we were gone. A slut just like your mother," Larry slurred.

Savannah's nostrils flared. The one thing she would not tolerate from anyone was speaking ill of the woman who raised her.

"Shut your fucking mouth, Larry. You didn't think she was a slut when you visited her every month and made me, did you?" Savannah snapped before taking a deep breath and returning to the kitchen. She shut her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cool wood.

"Are you alright?" she heard Paul ask.

Savannah cracked one eye open and gave them a small, tired smile.

"I will be. Sometimes they make me want to go on a killing spree, you know?" she said, huffing a frustrated laugh. Her head was still swimming from the blows she took from Margaret.

"Would you let Peter look at the cut on your face? He's a medical student," Paul said, looking at her bleeding face with an unknown emotion smoldering in his eyes.

"I'm sure I'll be fine. I wouldn't want to hold you here for that long," she said.

"I insist," Peter said, leaving no room for argument.

Savannah sighed, reaching for the top of the fridge for the first aid kit, only to feel a lean body pressing against her back. Paul gave her a wink as he grabbed the kit. Savanna hopped on the counter top and Peter set to work, cleaning and bandaging the scratch going through her eyebrow. She was so absorbed in the feel of Peter's gloved hands on her face and the heat his body radiated, she didn't notice the sound of the kitchen door opening.

"So these are the boys you have been fucking," Margaret slurred.

Savannah winced as her cheeks flushed. Margaret was never fun when she was angry drunk.

Peter's hands paused in taping the bandage to her face. She felt him release a breath before finishing up his work. Luckily, Paul was quick to respond.

"Ma'am, I think you're mistaken. Your daughter has not been anything but appropriate and polite to us," Paul assured.

"That ugly shit isn't my daughter," Margaret snapped.

"My apologies. Hi, I'm Paul. We came over to use your phone," he said, extending a gloved hand.

Margaret just stared at it.

"Larry, come meet the boys your bastard has been whoring around with!" Margaret called, looking at Savannah with a satisfied, malicious smirk.

"Who the fuck're you?" Larry growled, his eyes unfocused.

"Larry, baby, I don't like these boys. Throw them out!" Margaret whined.

"Sir, I think your wife has a misunderstanding of what is going on here. Savannah allowed us to come here earlier, and was kind enough to give us some eggs. We came back tonight because we needed to make a phone call. Now, Tom just finished cleaning up Savannah's face," Paul said.

"Oh, let me introduce myself. I'm Paul, and this is Peter," he said, extending his hand.

Larry looked at Paul's pristine white gloved hand, and his fave filled with rage.

"You're the sack of shit that ruined my carpet!" he roared, grabbing Paul's arm roughly and shoving him toward the door.

"Sir, it was purely accidental, this reaction is out of proportion," Peter's soft voice insisted.

Margaret stepped toward Peter with her hand raised to strike. Savannah was off the counter in less than a second and between the two. Larry saw this movement and a lunged toward her. He landed one hard slap to her face before her dropped to the ground with a pained shout.

Paul was holding a rolling pin, and they had all heard the snap of his Achilles tendon.

Time stood still for a moment before Margaret and Savannah both felt the hair stand up on the back of their necks. It was a reasonable reaction.

It was how anyone reacts upon realization that they were in the presence of dangerous animals.


	2. Truth or Dare

Hi, friends! The game has begun, and the Reid family's perfect facade is crumbling. Secrets will be revealed, blood will be spilled, and clothes will be shed. Pay attention, because I did a thing I thought was kind of cool. Things are getting crazy, so hold on tight!

Silence fell over the small group in the kitchen before it shattered with Margaret's shrill scream. As if they had rehearsed it, the boys jumped into action. Paul incapacitated Margaret by punching her in the stomach, while Peter wrapped his arm around Savannah's midsection.

"Please stay still, I don't want to have to hurt you," he said in her ear, meaning it for the first time.

Savannah gave a nod. She had some of the strongest survival instincts, and she knew how to act in these situations.

"Now, that was not very nice of you, Lawrence. You should take notes on how your daughter treats guests," Paul said in a scolding tone.

"Fuck off!" Larry groaned from the floor.

Margaret regained her breath and began shrieking and trying to lash out at Paul.

"Ma'am, please stop trying to hurt me. It's only going to make things more difficult for you," Paul warned.

"Who do you think you are?! I'm calling the police, and we'll see what they think about your little game, hm?" Margaret snapped.

"Oh, that won't be necessary," Peter hummed from behind Savannah. His arms still wrapped around her waist.

"Rodney! Rodney, honey! Come down here, and bring your driver!" Margaret shouted.

Every pair of eyes looked up at the sound of the upstairs floorboards creaking as the Reid family golden boy stood up. The sound of his footsteps seemed a thousand times louder. Soon, they heard him reach the bottom of the staircase and go into the hall closet to grab his ridiculously expensive golf club. They were authentic Honmas, each club cost about $5400.

The young man made his way into the kitchen and paused at the sight of his father on the floor, clutching his leg in agony.

"The fuck is this?" Rodney spluttered. He was still drunk from the wine at dinner, and he was not very intelligent to begin with, relying on the fact that his father had money in lieu of focusing on his education.

Paul threw Peter a look, and Peter reached into the knife drawer where he had seen Savannah place the knife earlier. It felt like years ago that she had been feeding two polite boys lasagna. Peter went to the landline and sliced the cord, effectively killing all chances for the family to call anyone for help. The knife was then tossed to Paul, handle first, and he caught it in his white gloved hand. Paul pressed the knife to Margaret's throat.

"Rodney, I would advise that you drop the golf club now. I apologize for the nature of our introduction, but, your father's behavior..." Paul trailed off with a chuckle.

"Please drop the club," Peter insisted in a soft voice.

"Rodney! Hit them! Kill them!" Margaret screeched.

"Shut up, Margaret, before he cuts your throat. You just healed from the neck lift last month," Savannah snapped, finding her voice. "Let's hear what they have to say, hm?" she asked, her eyes leaving no room for argument.

Savannah was used to being in these sorts of situations when her mom didn't pay a dealer back, or got tangled up in the wrong crowd. From a young age, Savannah knew how to reason with dangerous people. She had never had to do this with people who had no reason to be doing this, though.

"Ooh, a willing player," Paul said in an excited voice. "Tubby I think this game will be especially interesting."

"Stop calling me Tubby!" Peter snapped. His arms tightened around Savannah, and she was taken aback by how strong he was.

"Rodney, would you please put the club down?" Paul asked, rolling his eyes at Peter.

Rodney looked at the knife at his mother's throat, glancing down at the driver in his hand. Savannah saw the shift in his eyes and realized just how stupid her half-brother was.

"Rodney, I swear to fucking God!" Savannah shouted.

He paused.

"You hurt them, and you'll get us all killed. Put the fucking club down. Now," Savannah insisted.

The boy hesitantly dropped the club, and Peter went to grab it, releasing Savannah with a warning look. She wouldn't dare move. She needed to cooperate as best she could. Once he had the golf club, he moved back to his spot behind Savannah. She heard his sharp intake of breath.

"Is this... Is this a real Honma?" he asked in a daze.

"Take it," Larry grunted from the floor. "Take it, and leave us be," he said.

"Dad! Those are mine!" Rodney whined.

"We're gonna fucking die, Rodney!" Savannah cried.

"Shut up, you dumb bitch," Rodney growled stepping towards her menacingly. He didn't understand the grave danger they were in. He had always been able to avoid danger with his father's money protecting him.

"Rodney, would you please help your father to the couch? It seems we all need to have a sit-down discussion," Paul said, all business.

A moment of silence passed before he complied. Paul followed behind them with his knife still held to Margaret's throat. Rodney wrapped his arm around Larry's torso and helped him limp his way to the couch.

"You should probably let Peter look at your leg, he's a medical student," Paul suggested with a smile as if he hadn't just severely injured the man.

"And a good one, too," Savannah said, looking at Peter's blushing face with a smile. "Thank you for fixing me up," she said.

"Oh, it was nothing," he said.

"Now, does anyone know where the duct tape is?" Paul asked with a chilling grin.

Again, silence fell over the group before Savannah rose to her feet. She disappeared into the kitchen and they heard her quietly humming along to a song only she could hear.

"Please don't bring back a knife, or I'll be sorry... for you anyway," Peter called with a smile.

"Just grabbing the tape!" she called, digging under the sink. She finally found the rainbow striped tape from the back of the cupboard.

"You hungry?" Savannah asked, popping her head out of the kitchen door.

"Well, I, for one, would love some more of that amazing lasagna from earlier if you have any left," Paul responded. He looked surprised. He had just threatened the lives of her family, abusive or not.

"Peter?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, please!" he said with a smile.

Savannah tossed the roll of duct tape to Peter since Paul still had a knife held to Margaret's neck. When she walked back into the living room the entirety of the Reid family was bound around the wrists and ankles. The colorful tape looked almost comical, considering the circumstances in which it was being used. She placed the steaming plates onto the table in front of the boys and sat on the arm of the couch across from the boys.

"So, where do we go from here?" Savannah asked, holding her wrists out with a grin. Peter made no move to tape her up.

"You planned this, didn't you?!" Rodney screeched. "You wanted my trust fund money, and you decided to have us killed to get it!"

"Rodney, I couldn't care less about your money. What would I do with it? Use it to become like you sick fucks?" Savannah snapped and rolled her eyes.

"Now, now, wait before you decide to start arguing with your teammates, kiddos," Paul said cheerily.

"Teammates?" Margaret asked, finding her voice.

"Yes, if you want to win the bet, you're going to have to work together," Peter said, his blue eyes alight.

"What is the bet?" Larry asked.

 _I've always had good odds in Vegas_ , _two teenage brats are nothing_ , Larry tried to tell himself.

"What time is it, Tubby?" Paul asked.

"Stop, calling me Tubby!" Peter snapped.

"Okay, fine," Paul said, looking at the Reid family with a 'can you believe this guy?' look on his face. "Peter, what's the time?"

"Quarter til 10," Peter said, looking at his watch.

"Okay. We bet that by 10 o'clock tomorrow morning, you guys will be worm food," Paul said gleefully.

...LINEBREAKLINEBREAKLINEBREAKLINEBREAK

"What?" Margaret choked out.

"We bet that you'll be dead, you bet that you'll be alive," Paul said as if he was explaining something to a toddler.

"What kind of fucked up bet is that?!" Larry cried.

"That's not fair!" Rodney echoed. Margaret just started crying.

Savannah stared at the boys, her cinnamon eyes shining bright. They boys noticed the lack of fear there.

"Has anyone ever beaten you at this game?" Savannah asked in a steady voice.

"No, not yet," Peter said, watching as Paul dug into the cooled lasagna.

"Mmm!" he exclaimed. "This is delicious! You'll have to leave me the recipe."

Savannah surprised him when she threw her head back and let out a genuine laugh.

"You know, it's a shame we met this way... I could see us being friends in another life," she chuckled, wiping her eyes.

"Savannah, they're gonna fucking kill us! Stop trying to screw your way out of this!" Margaret snapped.

"Shut up, Margaret. Not all of us think with our vaginas," Lucy drawled.

"Now, let's start with this game!" she said with a flourish.

"Well, since you guys are still drunk, let's play a game called Spins," Paul said, smiling.

"Oh! We haven't played that in forever," Peter said, clapping his hands.

"Okay, who will go first?" Paul asked.

"Cub scout?" Peter asked.

Paul nodded.

"Cub scout, you're out," Peter said, ending with his finger pointing at Larry. He was safe.

"Cub scout, you're out," Savannah.

"Cub scout, you're out," Rodney.

Margaret.

She immediately burst into tears.

"No, no, don't cry, Margaret. I can call you Margaret, right? Anyway, you won, Margaret. Cheer up," Paul soothed, but there was a darkness behind his words that ran a shiver up her spine.

"Wh- what are the rules?" she asked in a small voice.

"You were granted immunity for this game. You're going to sit in this cozy desk chair, blindfolded, and you'll get a certain amount of spins. Then you'll stand up and walk toward someone. Whoever it is will be... well..." he trailed off.

The boys tore a strip off the expensive beaded curtains and tied it around Margaret's eyes. Once she was seated, they looked at each other, and for a moment they looked like two young boys talking about normal things that kids talk to their friends about.

"So how old is the housewife?" Paul asked.

"Oh, I'm not sure, maybe 38?" Peter guessed.

"Don't forget to count in the Botox," Savannah said.

"Ooh, that was cold," Paul laughed. "Let's say 43, hm?"

Then, the spinning began. After the thirty-eighth rotation, Margaret turned green. She leaned forward and vomited, the revolting substance running down her legs and onto the same carpet she had beaten Savannah over. The boys shared a laugh before finishing the spins. When Margaret stood, she wobbled before steeling herself. She staggered forward, hoping to collide with the only other feminine body in the room. She had wished for Savannah's death ever since she heard of her existence. All she saw the girl as was an obstacle in the way of her perfect life.

When she was certain that she was in front of her desired target she stumbled into their form. Only, when she made contact, instead of knocking into the soft, teenaged body, she felt hard planes of muscle before her senses were clouded by the scent of Drakkar Noir.

Larry.

Margaret reached up and stroked her husband's face, making sure she was feeling the right person. She was, and she squeezed her eyes shut and popped them open, hoping to wake up from this nightmare. The blindfold was removed, and Margaret met her husband's eyes. She could see his thought process and watched as he made peace with his fate.

"Oh, guys," Paul said, feigning sympathy. "I'll give you a moment to say some words."

"Margaret, I'm so sorry I was such a dick to you. You were such a good wife, and I will never be able to apologize enough for treating you the way I did. Thank you for giving me such an amazing son, I love you," Larry said softly.

"Well, I love you too. And just to clear the air, and my guilty conscience… I've been screwing my pilates teacher for the past four years," Margaret stated, watching Peter creep up behind Larry with the knife.

"Victor? We invited him to our family barbeques, Margaret! You bitch!" Larry cried.

"Well, since you're dying..." Margaret trailed off.

"That's how you wanna send me off? You know what? Fuck you! If that's how it's gonna be, then let's clear it all up. I fucked your sister! Last Thanksgiving, didn't even wipe my dick off before I plowed you, too!" Larry shouted.

They soon became lost in their argument, their emotions heightened from adrenaline and liquor. Paul and Peter looked at each other with wide eyes. Savannah laughed again.

"Is something funny to you?" Larry snarled.

"This weekend was for family bonding..." she said, dissolving into more giggles.

Soon Paul and Peter joined her laughter. Their laughter continued after Margaret let out a scream when Peter stabbed through Larry's shoulder. He wouldn't die immediately, but he would if he didn't get medical attention soon.

"You know, we were gonna kill you, but I think this drama will be especially entertaining in the game. "New game!" Paul sang.

The family made their way back to the sitting area.

The little group congregated around the coffee table. Savannah had fetched a towel from Larry and Margaret's bathroom. They were Italian imported, the whole set extravagant and luxurious. Her lips twitched into a smirk when she saw Margaret's mouth purse in distaste when Larry's blood stained them.

"Now, this game is called Truth or Dare. I'm sure you have heard of it before, but this version is a little different. If you lie or chicken, you lose. The first to lose will lose for real this time. If you cheat, though, the consequences will _truly_ be disastrous," Paul stated darkly.

"So, who goes first?" Peter asked. He was holding the golf club that Rodney had brought down. The knife was in Paul's hands.

"Let's go by numbers. Say, Savannah? How old are you?" Paul asked cheekily.

"Seventeen," she said in an equally cheerful voice.

"Jail bait," Paul joked, nudging Peter with his elbow.

Savannah's cheeks flushed, but she let out a laugh. She would be the least of an officer's worries if they called these boys into the station.

Peter counted around the circle, starting with Savannah and ending on Rodney.

"Okay, Rodney, your turn," Paul said.

"Dad, truth or dare?" Rodney asked in a trembling voice.

"Truth," Larry said weakly, the blood loss getting to him.

"Were you planning on giving Savannah half of my trust fund?" he asked. He knew the answer, so it was an easy ques-

"Yes," Larry said simply.

"What?!" Rodney cried.

"Next turn!" Paul said. The game needed to keep moving or he would get bored. "Larry?"

"Margaret, truth or dare?" Larry growled.

"D… dare," she said in a small voice. Margaret would rather die than talk to him about the affair.

"I dare you to grab that Sharpie and write _'WHORE'_ across your forehead. When they find our bodies, I want everyone to know who you really are," Larry said in his cold, lawyer tone.

Margaret choked a sob and did as she was told. The group sat in silence for a moment.

"Well, let's keep moving. C'mon Margie, toughen up," Savannah said in a mocking tone.

"Paul, truth or dare?" Margaret said through her tears.

"Ooh, I like this part. Truth," he said.

"Why are you doing this?" she whimpered.

"Well, Peter here… well, he's a full blown homo. Got beat up in school over it, but that's nothing compared to what his daddy did to him. Now he does this to prove his masculinity to himself," Paul said.

"No, that's not true!" Peter cried.

"He's right. You see, Peter's father lost a lot of money in a business deal with a rich man, and he was raised to hate the bourgeoisie. Now he hunts them," Paul said.

"Just kidding," Paul laughed.

"Peter here is just along for the ride," Paul said. "I'm here because I'm a chronic masturbator. Name any porn; I've tugged off to it. Gay porn, spider porn, _clown_ porn. I can only get myself off if someone else is dead in the room," Paul said in fake shame.

Savannah burst into giggles, and Peter all out laughed at that one. That was one he had never heard before.

"Honestly, will it change anything? It doesn't matter why I'm killing you. You're gonna die either way. What difference will it make if you know me? Do you want some sort of tragic fucking backstory? How about you, reader? Do you want a reason to justify why I murdered a bunch of innocent families?" Paul asked, his icy blue eyes glinting.

"The real reason is that we want to, Margaret," Paul deadpanned.

"You can't forget the importance of entertainment," Peter chimed in, clapping his hand on Savannah's thigh.

"Your turn," Savannah said.

"Okay, truth or dare, Savannah?" Paul asked, smirking.

"Truth," she said, challenging him with her eyes.

"How do Peter and I make you feel?" he asked.

"Safe, confused, curious… excited," she mumbled, losing her nerve.

"Safe?""Excited?" Paul and Peter asked at the same time.

"You guys have shown more care for me than anyone has in my entire life, and that's kind of sad considering you're gonna kill me," she let out a laugh.

"Wait-"Peter began.

"It's my turn, cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater," she joked.

"Shoot," Paul told her with a warning in his eyes.

"Peter, truth or dare?" Savannah asked with a mischievous smile.

"Truth," he responded.

"Do you think I have a chance at winning this game?" she asked seriously.

"I think you will make it farther than any other player," he answered her vaguely.

Savannah nodded. That answer was good enough for now.

"Savannah, truth or dare?" Peter asked.

"Dare," she said, surprising him. He could see her stubbornness. The women in this group were fearless unless it came to telling hidden truths.

"Hmmm, I dare you to take your top off," Peter said absentmindedly. He wasn't interested in seeing her naked. Well, he was, but he wanted to know more about her life and why she felt the way she did.

Savannah pulled her sweatshirt off, leaving her in her bra and track shorts. She wasn't uncomfortable with nudity. She was uncomfortable, however, with the way Larry and Rodney had their eyes fixed on her chest.

"Paul, truth or dare?" Savannah asked, staring at Larry with a cold glare.

"Truth," he responded, glancing at her breasts before meeting her eyes.

"Let's make a deal, like they say on tv," Savannah grinned.

"Depends on what it concerns," he said.

"If I outlast the others, I join you. If I don't, then you can kill me any way you want," Savannah said.

"Hmm, deal. You have to follow the rules, though No cheating," Paul agreed.

"Sav, truth or dare?" Paul said. He was getting bored of this game.

"Dare," she stubbornly said again.

"Either you can take your bra off, or you can tell me what you meant by-" he stopped short when he was hit in the chest by Savannah's lacy maroon bra. The sight of her bare breasts made his breath catch in his throat.

Peter was looking at her with wide eyes, like a little kid looking into the window of a toy store.

"Larry, truth or dare?" Savannah smirked.

"Truth," he said in a small voice.

"Does this turn you on, you sick fuck? Or do you have a gun in your pants?" Savannah laughed. "Albeit, it would have to be a toy gun, since… ya know…" she trailed off, holding her fingers a couple of centimeters apart.

"H-hey!" he blustered.

"Sorry, bud, but your nut roll is a little too aged for me. I mean, I know I remind you of my mom but she's dead, and I'm your kid, sicko. At least she'll live on in your memories when you're jack hammering Margaret's plastic titties" Savannah laughed openly at him.

"You bitch!" Margaret screeched, launching herself out of her seat towards Savannah.

She fell to the ground with a silent scream, the silence making the sound of golf club colliding with bone seem even louder. When she pulled in a ragged breath it left her in a loud scream. That one was warranted, though. She would need surgery if she wasn't set to die in a few hours. At least they were saving them from that expense, right?

"Cheating is _not_ allowed, Marge," Peter said in a gentle voice laced with contempt.

Rodney chose that moment to jump up and sprint toward the door. It was locked. He tried to throw himself against it to break the lock, but he was no match for the huge piece of mahogany . He ran upstairs and everyone downstairs looked up, listening to his frantic footsteps.

When Paul sauntered toward the stairs, Savannah stopped him, "He has a sports rifle in his room. I have my mom's revolver in my bag, take that with you. It's loaded."

"You traitor!" Margaret cried, pointing a finger at her.

"Not a traitor. Just ambitious. Enemy of my enemy, and all that jazz, Maggie," Savannah said, rolling her eyes.

The group sat in silence. Savannah scooted closer to Peter, cold from still being topless. He eventually put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer just when they heard a shot go off directly above their heads. Savannah, Larry, and Margaret jumped, but Peter didn't even blink. He was used to this, after all.

When Paul came downstairs holding an old revolver and a long, elegant sports rifle, covered in blood, Larry and Margaret let out gut wrenching sobs.

Rodney was the first loser of the game.


End file.
